


i see no tragedy

by transdickgrayson



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: American Sign Language, Amputation, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon Disabled Character, Dick Grayson-centric, Disabled Author, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Loss of Limbs, Prosthesis, Romani Dick Grayson, Tiny bit of Angst, Trans Dick Grayson, Trans Male Character, Wheelchairs, also btw this fic is strongly disability positive., babs teaches dick to fight in a wheelchair, cass & duke & steph are not ignored, dc stop making dick so tall. hes a gymnast, im starting the green/brown heterochromia eyes damian agenda, jason is retired & goes to therapy, no content of racism or slurs towards romani here, references to other trans characters, theyre happy., trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transdickgrayson/pseuds/transdickgrayson
Summary: "I love you, Damian, but I'm putting my foot down," Dick set his left prosthesis on the coffee table to a chorus of groans."Master Dick," Alfred didn't even turn around. "Remove your foot from the table at once."Wasting no time, Duke used the distraction to start his movie of choice. Dick winked at him as they settled down on the couch. Sometimes it was too easy.(Dick becomes a double below-knee amputee, adapts, and thrives.)
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 187
Collections: Batfam Big Bang 2020





	i see no tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> i did this for the [Batfam Big Bang](https://batfam-big-bang.tumblr.com) on tumblr! check out the other amazing fics by clicking on the collection :)
> 
> huge thank u to my betas:  
> [bri/shelton-devers](https://shelton-devers.tumblr.com)  
> [crys/crystalinastar](https://crystalinastar.tumblr.com)  
> [sam/rivermoose-sam](https://rivermoose-sam.tumblr.com)
> 
> and thank u so much to my artists:  
> [stephie/sketphire](https://sketphire.tumblr.com)  
> [ash/kalytera](https://kalytera.tumblr.com)  
> [carla/fantrash15](https://fantrash15.tumblr.com)
> 
> im so thankful!!
> 
> ill be linking artwork when we get to those scenes!
> 
> the fic has a little comic logic at the beginning but the actual medical stuff i researched. but i am NOT a medical professional.  
> also the first scene describes non graphic accidental amputation, & a bomb explosion
> 
> "text" is spoken  
> 'text' is ASL
> 
> hope u enjoy!!

Damian came to with a start, cheek pressed to cement, a ringing in his ears. Coughing smoke from his lungs, he scrambled upright, assessing the situation.

He was surrounded by the remains of a tall building blasted to hell, ashy cement and metal jutting up around him like headstones. Swatting at the smoke before his face didn't do him much good. Black soot was smeared on him, and he had a multitude of cuts. Nothing too serious.

The reason he was here roughly slotted itself back into its proper place in his brain from where it'd been knocked out in the fall.

A man had set up bombs all around the city, and the family had all spread out to disarm them. He and Richard had reached theirs and they'd approached it. Suddenly Richard had turned, grabbed him, and thrown him out through the tiny window. A blast had hit Damian mid-air just as he'd cleared the window and Richard- Richard-

Green boots kicking up soot, Robin darted back into the collapsed mass of a former building, his heart shooting into his throat and pounding there. The homemade bombs obviously weren't as strong as they usually dealt with. In a different situation, there would be far less intact rubble for him to search through.

Panting in purely physical exhaustion, NOT panic, Damian ran around a crumbling half-wall and skidded to a halt. There it was, the familiar, comforting blue symbol, streaked with messy black and… red.

And attached to that symbol was Nightwing's limp body, with a wall less laying on his legs below the knee and more… having gone right through them. Apart from that, he was covered in cuts, bruises, and smeared blood.

Damian dropped to his knees beside his brother, sliding a few inches on the filthy floor. Shaking fingers seeking out a pulse on Nightwing's neck, Damian's other hand gently peeled his brother's domino off.

It was dangerous and foolish in the field, and he didn't quite know why he did it, until Richard's blue eyes fluttered open and the relief in his chest was so sharp Damian didn't bother trying to hold back a strangled sob. It was just them, after all.

At the noise, Richard's eyes fixed on him despite looking unfocused.

"D'mi? Are you ok'y? Are you h'rt?" Before he could reply, Richard began to try and shift. Damian pressed his chest down with both hands.

"Don't move, you idiot!" His voice was embarrassingly thick with the tears welling in his eyes.

He'd dealt with far more high stress situations. With his upbringing, this shouldn't phase him. But for some reason, when Richard was injured it was always different. His mind always flashed back to the headstone right beside Damian's own, a gravesite Richard's will- updated after Damian's passing- had specifically requested. He flashed back to the feeling of returning from a literal hell only to feel like he'd been thrown right back in, but worse this time. He would remember how he'd been forced to figure out an answer to their old banter of "What would you do without me?"

He'd had to grapple with the knowledge that Richard went through the same for him, only to pass before Damian could come back to him. Damian had thought it was beyond cruel, a sick joke designed just for the two of them.

Of course, he had been revived, not that Damian had known that. Not that they'd been able to reunite anyway.

Damian shook his head. This wasn't nearly a serious enough situation to justify thinking about all that. Richard would live.

Duke would no doubt call this a "trauma response" and then tell him he should make an appointment with Todd's therapist. Well, what did he know?

Damian squared his shoulders. He'd only wasted a moment in his thoughts, but he had to get himself together. Richard needed medical attention.

"I'm fine," he firmly applied pressure to Richard's chest once more before slowly easing off. "And don't use names in the field."

The scolding was half-hearted.

"Yerr ups't," Richard's voice was weak and slurred.

"And you're in shock, Nightwing," Damian unfastened his cape and began to fan him. It was hot around them so he needed to keep him cool rather than warm. "Do you feel light-headed or dizzy?"

Richard stared at him for a moment before his head weakly lolled to the other side.

"Yeah," it came out as a whisper. "Wha h'pp'n'd?"

"The bomb went off. I'm alright, since you threw me out the window."

No response, which would be the shock at work.

"Thank you for that," Damian stated matter-of-factly.

Whenever Richard saved him, it always made a bit of an ache bloom in his chest, reminding him of the first time Richard had done so. But he couldn't dwell on his feelings right now.

The others should be done with disarming their bombs, and he was about to radio for assistance, which is when he realized Oracle had been practically shouting into his ear requesting his status.

Into his comm he said, "I'm fine, Oracle. Nightwing is injured. I need the Batmobile and some extra hands."

Damian assessed the main injury at hand. It looked to be a full amputation and therefore wasn't bleeding much; the severed blood vessels would have shrunk.

"On my way," Father's gruff voice crackled in his ear.

"I'm with him," came Steph's voice. "What kind of injury?"

"It looks to be a complete amputation of both legs several inches below the knees," Damian's hands fluttered over Richard for a moment, he needed to shift him to get debris out of the injuries.

There was complete silence for a very, very long moment before Steph's voice sounded in his ear again.

"You'll need to elevate the legs, and remove anything from the wounds. Use your cape to-"

"I know what I'm doing, Spoiler!" His composure slipped as he shifted Richard, eliciting a weak groan of pain from his brother. He was unconscious now, at least.

"Okay," Steph said gently, trying to soothe him. Secretly he appreciated it. "We'll be there in a second."

Damian acted quick, flipping open a pouch from his utility belt and using the blade to cut a piece from his cape. He bundled the rest under the ends of his brother's legs.

He brushed soot off the cut piece of his cape as well as he could before using it to pick debris from the amputation sites. Brushing the long piece of cloth off yet again, he laid it across the ends of Richard's legs and placed a hand on each leg to apply pressure to the open wounds.

Damian remained that way until his father's strong hand laid on his shoulder.

"We've got it now, Robin," Steph pulled him into a quick but strong side-hug before releasing him.

He reluctantly backed off but hovered close as Father and Steph lifted Richard into the back of the Batmobile. They replaced Damian's cape under his legs with clean cloth.

"I can't take him into the hospital as Nightwing. Spoiler, cut his suit off and change him into this," Father tossed a bag to Steph and motioned Damian to the passenger seat, hopping into the driver's side himself.

Damian peered over the back of his seat as Father drove and Steph worked, gently maneuvering Richard into a skirt that snapped on, to avoid pulling anything over his injured legs.

Damian spent the rest of the ride with static in his head, but not taking his eyes off of Richard once.

At the hospital, Father growled at them to stay in the car. Afterwards, they rushed their showers in the cave, where Cassandra and Drake were already dressed and waiting for them.

Duke and Todd, the only ones with regular sleep schedules- Duke being a day-time vigilante and Todd being retired- were groggy when awoken by Pennyworth but quickly became alert, leaping into the car with the rest of them.

Though the waiting room was mostly empty, being the famously enormous Wayne family (plus Barbara Gordon) unfortunately got the nine of them stared at.

Damian clenched his fist where he sat beside Pennyworth on the hard plastic chairs. The old butler placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder as Steph flopped down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. Damian didn't shrug her off.

After an eternity, dawn came, and Father removed his arm from around Duke's shoulders. Duke, who'd been drooling on Father's bicep, awoke with a snort. Father patted his shoulder in apology.

"I have several schools to call and absences to excuse," he stepped outside and Duke relocated beside Cassandra, the two of them slumping against each other's shoulders. What no one needed him to say was that he'd gone to do some clean-up.

After what seemed like a decade, just as Barbara returned with water bottles a nurse came into the waiting room.

He informed them of Richard's current condition, but warned them he was sleeping and they most likely wouldn't be able to visit until the afternoon.

They settled down to wait, again. Luckily, Father had foreseen this and brought food, blankets, and books.

Damian resolved to not fall asleep, he wanted to be aware the moment they could see Richard.

Later he'd curse himself for not being more suspicious when Father handed him an opened water bottle.

\--

Dick wasn't as upset as people probably expected of him.

He'd chosen to focus on saving Damian, it hadn't been a question really. The window was too small for Dick anyway.

Dick could never regret prioritizing Damian. And he was ready and willing to deal with whatever that meant.

Besides, he was friends with Vic and knew very well needing prostheses wasn't something bad.

If he was ignoring the fact he felt strangely numb right now, that was his business.

The hospital allowed him a few visitors at a time. Damian sat in a chair to his left at his shoulder, intently studying his face. Babs held his hand where she'd parked her chair to the right of his bed and Tim sat in a chair to Dick's left beside Damian.

His hospital bed was laid flat; it was to avoid contractures, they said. He'd gladly keep it that way, the last thing he needed was his body's soft tissues turning stiff. The ends of his legs were elevated and would stay that way for about two days.

"How are you feeling?" Tim piped up, leaning to place his hand on Dick's shoulder.

"Hm… fine." There was still a ringing in his ears and he winced at Tim's voice.

Damian scoffed slightly, picking at the threads on Dick's hospital blanket, his eyebrows pulling together and bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"It's gonna be okay," Dick tried to reassure him.

Unfortunately, the crease in between Damian's eyebrows only deeped, and the sad, pinched look on Tim's face only got worse.

"Ugh, you would say that," Babs scoffed, letting go of his hand to press her fingertips to her forehead.

She looked at him, and Dick kind of felt like shit underneath the comfortable feeling from the painkillers. Held back tears shone in her eyes and guilt choked Dick. He hated to be the cause of that look. Of course he'd get himself into this shit.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

He got strangled noises from all three in response. Dick stared back.

"Dick, we're not the injured ones."

"Richard, spare us."

Dick turned his head to his brothers where they sat on the left of his bed and spotted the soot and cuts that covered Damian. "You're hurt."

"Don't evade the topic at hand, Grayson," Damian crossed his arms and Dick smiled. He was always adorable when he did that. "You're trying to comfort us when you could've died-"

The beginning of Damian's rant was cut short by Babs loudly clearing her throat. Damian levelled her with a glare and got a raised eyebrow in response.

"How about you two go let the others know he's awake? And Damian, you can get your cuts checked out." The tone of the order was all "big sister Babs," and just as non-negotiable as that title suggested.

Bruce. Dick's blood turned to ice as his brain functioning was reduced to nothing but a loud chant of Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Bruce was going to come into the room, look at Dick, and then he may as well just leave because nothing he could say would be worse than the expression of disappointment he'd cast over him.

Dick didn't know how long he'd been trapped in his own little world of self-flagellation when he was yanked back to the conversation (or rather argument, apparently) by Damian (painfully) loudly informing Babs and Tim they had no right to make him leave, and that "Richard would benefit more from his presence than from anyone else's, most especially theirs."

Okay, the kid was really upset. By now, he and Tim were… not extremely close, but they cared about each other. And in recent months Damian had taken Dick's urging to bond with Barbara more seriously. It was obvious to Dick that Damian didn't even really believe the insult. He'd made enough comments about Babs to Dick that Dick was able to tell meant he'd grown more respectful of her, both as Oracle and as Barbara. And though it had made him jealous, Damian knew how important Tim and Dick were to each other.

"Dami," Damian's fist was balled on the bed beside him, and Dick raised his hand. Damian took Dick's hand, leaning toward his big brother.

"Of course I like having you here," Dick reassured. Damian's intense eyes, one green and one brown, met his blue ones. "I like the others here, too. Do as Babs says. You can come back, I'm not gonna run off."

He grinned widely at his own joke, and thankfully Damian's face unwrinkled as the tension in his body unwound. He rolled his eyes at Dick's attempt at humor. Dick gave his hand a squeeze, still smiling.

Damian shot a glance at Babs, who had started watching the machines at Dick's bedside as soon as Damian grabbed his hand. Tim was fiddling with his phone, to give Damian some kind of privacy.

"Fine," Damian stood abruptly, nodding to Babs, who nodded seriously back. "I'll check on you again later, Richard." He left, not waiting for Tim.

Tim drew his attention by placing a hand on Dick's shoulder again. Careful not to jostle Dick, he leaned down for a hug. His nose smushed against Dick's shoulder. Dick wrapped his arms around Tim's back and pressed his cheek to Tim's head, holding back the urge to repeat that it'd be okay.

Tim slowly let go, flashing Dick a smile as he stood up.

"Well, see you again later. Let us know when you're ready for the others," Tim closed the door softly.

Dick's expression fell flat as his little brother left. He studied the pattern on the hospital ceiling; suddenly it seemed fascinating.

"Dick, look at me," Babs said quietly, having guessed about his ears.

He sighed but met her eyes. They gazed at him from behind her glasses, and the emotions he saw there made it hard to not turn back to the ceiling. Her throat bobbed.

"You're allowed to be upset about this. You're allowed to show it. Your feelings aren't inconvenient-"

"I'm fine," Dick cut her off sharply. His eyes darted away before meeting hers again, a challenge behind them.

"Dick," her stern tone made his eyes flit away and back again. "This is me you're talking to," now her voice was soft.

Honestly, it was a shock. Just the previous night he'd had both feet and now he… didn't. It was hard to wrap his mind around. A big part of Dick almost felt numb with the shock. After spending his whole life with his flesh and blood legs from the knees down, it was definitely a little weird to think he wouldn't anymore.

He knew he'd be okay. But it was so much to process, and it was all out of nowhere. Dick felt he was slightly operating emotionally on autopilot.

He both could and couldn't believe it was really happening.

He took a deep breath.

"Yeah Babs… It's," he paused, swallowing. "It's gonna take some getting used to."

Babs patted his hand.

"Nice job, not deflecting."

"Hey," he laughed, mildly offended.

"That was an honest compliment!" she laughed, before sobering, gazing at him intently. "Seriously, though, we don't have to talk about it right now, just… We're all gonna be here for you, okay? No one's going to judge you if you need to talk about your feelings with this. Dick, you didn't do anything wrong and this isn't some kind of… failing. Or punishment from the universe, or whatever lies you're beating yourself up with. Okay?"

Babs never did pull any punches.

He avoided her eyes again.

"Whenever you start thinking anything like that, imagine you're saying it about me."

Dick cringed.

"Babs, it's not-"

She held up a hand.

"It isn't different. You see how full of shit that thinking is now? I won't let you bully yourself, Dick Grayson."

Can't argue with a tone like that.

Babs sighed.

"You're allowed to grieve. But I won't have you thinking this is some kind of… of… defect. Something that's bad or makes you, I don't know, lesser," she pointed a stern finger at him. "You and your body's value doesn't change because of being disabled. Got that?"

Dick's face was on fire and he turned his face away in embarrassment.

"Yes, Babs…" he mumbled.

"Sorry, what was that?"

He turned back towards her. The depth of fierce care he saw in her eyes, directed at him, only made him blush harder.

"Got it. Thanks," he held her intense gaze.

"Good," she nodded firmly.

"Can I deflect now?" Dick tried out a grin.

Babs burst out laughing.

"Yeah, fine, be my guest. Actually, one more thing."

He raised his eyebrows in question.

"I've done my research," Babs started in a warning tone. "and I swear to everything, until those incisions are healed you're behaving. If I hear about you walking around on your hands even a day too soon, so help me I will permanently fuse you to your wheelchair. Don't think I don't know you'll be doing that the first chance you get."

"Damn," he laughed. "I'll try my best to behave."

She leveled him with a skeptical look.

"Forgive me for my lack of faith, you workaholic."

Dick laughed awkwardly. He wasn't that bad.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Dick called.

The door opened and there was Bruce, face unreadable. Dick's heart skipped a beat in nervousness.

Babs gave his hand another squeeze and shot him a reassuring smile.

"See you later, Grayson," Bruce stood aside for her to wheel out the door.

When it clicked shut, Bruce turned to Dick and his expression was… softer than Dick expected.

Bruce pulled up a chair to sit on his right side near his head, folding his hands in his lap.

"Bruce… I'm s-"

"Don't you dare," Bruce cut him off with a growl.

Dick closed his eyes. Here it came. He'd been reckless, he could've died, he'd gotten injured, he'd failed-

"You have nothing to apologize for," Dick's eyes flew open and locked with Bruce's stern ones. This wasn't his Batman voice.

"Thank you for saving Damian," Bruce said, softer.

Then he slowly ran a big, gentle hand through Dick's curly hair. The movement was familiar and welcome.

Dick's heart clenched painfully. That simple touch said more than enough. Years of love and trust were held in Bruce's hands.

The first time Bruce had cupped his head and gently caressed his hair- like he was something precious- he'd been a heartbroken eight-year-old boy, finally letting himself sob into Bruce's pajama shirt. Bruce had been only twenty one himself then and according to the media, unfit for fatherhood. But they didn't know Bruce Wayne like Dick Grayson did, the way only a lonely child starving for love could.

From then on, Bruce's fingers running through his curls collected these moments between them. They were preserved in the lines of Bruce's palms and in the calluses and scars on his rough skin. And when those hands touched Dick's face, his hair, his shoulder, his back during a hug-

The love in those memories bloomed warm across his skin, all the way to his heart, the beating organ in his chest sending the warmth through his veins until his whole body was brimming with it.

Bruce kept his hand atop Dick's head, just barely moving it in a gentle petting motion.

"Dad," he breathed.

"Dickie," Bruce answered, his voice soft and steady. "It'll be okay. I'm here."

Dick blinked rapidly, swallowing. This injury was a big change, and it'd happened so suddenly. He was struck with a longing for Bruce to hold him.

It'd been so long now, and he missed it more than he'd thought.

"I'm not disappointed in you. Nothing happened for me to be disappointed about," Bruce's eye contact was uncomfortably intense.

"I know," Dick replied. He'd just had a talk with Babs after all. But still, he could never shake the doubt he was meeting Bruce's standards, or the feeling he was letting him down. And logically knowing it was irrational in this instance didn't help much.

Bruce's expression showed what he thought of that response, but he didn't say anything further.

That was enough emotional competence for one day, Dick supposed.

Bruce paused his petting to lightly caress Dick's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

There was silence for a few minutes, Dick enjoying the gentle touches and feeling stress he hadn't realized was there seeping out of his relaxing muscles.

"I love you," Bruce said, suddenly. The right corner of his lips curled up at Dick's expression of surprise, knowing his use of the phrase was rare.

"I love you too," Dick's voice broke on the last word, embarrassingly.

This much openness from Bruce was still rare these days, though he'd been getting better, reminding Dick once more of the young father whose covers he'd taken shelter in after a nightmare. It was a bit overwhelming, like a few too many warm blankets causing you to overheat.

Bruce seemed to be thinking for a moment, before he leaned down to kiss Dick's forehead.

Dick closed his eyes. His chest hurt. But it felt good, and familiar. He didn't know what to say, but didn't really feel any words were needed.

Bruce seemed to agree, and they sat in pleasant silence, the father stroking his son's hair.

\--

Dick's next visitors thankfully brightened up his boring hospital room.

Steph, Cass, Duke, and Jason kept the conversation loud and busy. It was comforting. And thankfully his ears felt much better.

"I tried to cheer Damian up, but I don't think he liked my joke," Jason was saying.

"What did you do," Dick said flatly, exasperated but amused.

"The kid looked so down, so I told him, 'Hey, at least now there's one person here you're taller than.' I was trying to be nice," he grinned.

Dick burst out laughing, honestly relieved at how casually they were treating this all. He needed to be treated normal, because this is normal.

"You're the worst," he shook his head with a grin. Damian wasn't so insecure about his height after spending so much time in Dick's confident presence, otherwise Jason wouldn't have said it. That didn't change the fact he'd bristle at Jason making jokes right now.

Jason shrugged.

"I really could not fucking stand the atmosphere in the waiting room. Someone had to do something."

"He was pretty pissed at you," Duke turned to Dick. "He laid into Jason for making light of the situation."

"It was probably not the best thing to say to Damian right now," Nevertheless, Cass was smiling. In the waiting room everyone's body language had been unbearably on edge, until Jason's comment provided a distraction.

"I feel kinda bad for laughing," Steph tried to stop, pressing her lips together and cheeks puffing out as she failed.

"Yeah, stop laughing actually," Dick said as seriously as he could. "Jay, making height jokes about this? Before I did? How could you do that to me?"

"Yeah, and while being the tallest? That's just disrespectful," Duke shook his head at Jason, crossing his arms.

"You're jealous," Jason fired back immediately.

"Sorry, what was that?" Steph cupped her hand around her ear. "I can't hear you from all the way up there, you tall freak."

"We're all sitting down!"

"Just wait 'till I get prostheses. I'll make them so I'm as tall as a stilt walker," Dick said with a straight face, though his lips were quivering with the effort not to smile.

"Yeah, and when Jason annoys you, you can just punt him like a football all the way to Central City," Steph mimed the punting of Football Jason.

"If this weren't a hospital room I'd punt you right now."

"Did you hear something?" Cass asked, a confused look on her face.

"Hm," Duke rubbed his chin, pulling a face like he was deep in thought. "Sounded like Jason, but he should be in Central City by now."

"Don't worry, if he comes back I'll just punt him again," Dick promised.

Jason sighed overdramatically, slumping in his seat with an arm flung across his eyes. "I'll be bringing you all up at my next therapy session, yet again. The five foot fives are attacking me, the innocent, sexy six foot."

"Well, I'm no foot five now, thanks," Dick delivered completely deadpan.

That got a slightly surprised laugh out of them all, even Jason couldn't quite hide his huff of a laugh.

"That was terrible. Again, I'm telling my therapist about the psychological damage you all do to me."

Dick rolled his eyes, before voicing his worries.

"How is Damian now, though?"

"Don't worry," Cass patted his arm. "After I calmed him down from verbally thrashing Jason, I hugged him," she smirked.

"I'm sure he loved that. In public and everything," Dick snorted. Jokes aside, he trusted Cass to have known exactly what Damian needed just from looking at him.

Steph stretched in her chair, "He totally needed it. Not that he'll admit that, though."

"Tim took him to the cafeteria. Genius, really," Duke mused. "He'll latch onto complaining about the food to keep himself from thinking about how worried he is. I'll bet he's listing the ways he could cook every single item better."

'He's more shaken than he wants everyone to think,' Cass signed, looking concerned. Duke put a hand on her shoulder.

"Send him in when they get back, please," Dick requested. "I said he could come back."

'He'll like that,' Cass nodded.

\--

Dick was pleased to see Damian's cuts bandaged up and most of the soot wiped away. But he was worried about his mental state.

Since sitting in the chair, Damian's expression had become pensive and rather gloomy.

"Hey kiddo," Dick stroked the back of Damian's hand with his thumb. "What's up?"

Damian seemed to startle slightly, his expression turning unconcerned. He still wouldn't look directly at Dick.

"It's nothing, Richard. Simply recalling the dreadful slop they call food here."

"Hey, I know for a fact it's been good since Bruce got involved."

Damian snorted. "It pales in comparison to the skills of Pennyworth and I."

"That's true," Dick acknowledged. "So, wanna tell me what's really bothering you?"

The younger boy scowled, face scrunching up. "I just did, you simpleton."

"You can't talk to me like that, I'm injured," Dick replied mildly, amused.

Damian's face flickered with guilt. Bingo.

"You sure you're not feeling guilty about the explosion?" Dick kept his tone casual but with a firm edge.

Damian was silent for several minutes as Dick waited, looking at him expectantly. His mismatched eyes burned holes in the hospital bed.

"I should've known," he finally mumbled. "I let my guard down, and you paid for it."

Dick winced.

"Listen, Dami," he started, "It doesn't really matter what caused it. And I made my choice. I'm not disappointed in you. I don't blame you."

Damian's face twisted.

"And the amputations… This kind of thing isn't world-ending like people make it out to be. It'll take work and time, but I'll adapt. I promise."

His brother still looked a little unsure.

Dick remembered what he'd said earlier. (You could've died.)

His heart plummeted.

"Dami," he tugged on the smaller hand still gripping his. "Look at me. I'm here. I didn't die."

His little brother winced, glancing away.

"I know that," he muttered.

"No, c'mon, look at me," Damian did. "It's alright. I'm not going anywhere."

Damian held his gaze and finally nodded slowly, his eyes shining.

"C'mere," Dick tugged him in, and Damian scooted his chair closer and leaned down to hug his big brother.

He pressed his face into the warm crook of Dick's neck. Damian let himself relax and didn't bother putting up a front by pulling away quickly. No one would know how long he'd soaked up the comfort of his big brother's hug.

But Damian couldn't quite shake the guilt of receiving comfort from his brother right now. After all, he had scolded him for trying to offer it earlier.

This would be his one indulgence. Richard was alive, after all, and being in his warm hug only reinforced that knowledge. Damian's heart had been in his throat since the explosion, but finally it calmed.

From now on, it was his turn to be there for Richard.

\--

Dick stayed in the hospital for the next two weeks. The first two days, he kept his stumps elevated. Nurses repositioned him on his sides or his stomach every two hours, to prevent contractures.

For someone who loved, needed, to constantly move, it was agony. Dick found himself constantly moving his arms, tapping out nervous patterns, and rambling nonstop to whichever family member was visiting him. The need to move as he was used to gnawed at him like hunger. The flames of frustration licked at him, but he would bite his cheek and stamp it down. It was no easy task.

About every five hours a nurse would unwrap his stump dressings to check them and replace the bandages. The very first time, Dick didn't hesitate to look.

He hadn't been sure what he'd feel when he saw the new form of his limbs for the first time.

Dick felt… interested. He also felt something that was a confusing mix of peace and… euphoria? He wouldn't be able to articulate what it was exactly if someone asked.

Dick had been determined since a very young age to always love his body as he was, no matter what other people thought he should've been, or how they thought he could be made better. It was a fierce form of self-love that came with long experience of others telling you that you as a being are fundamentally wrong.

If you practiced at it enough, it eventually came naturally. Parts of yourself you used to have to tell yourself were good inspire pride and euphoria in you simply for being a part of you.

Dick saw his body as it was, and when the nurse finished redressing his stump, he laid back with a smile.

Over the two weeks he spent there, he performed exercises including pushing his residual legs into progressively firmer surfaces, starting with a pillow. This helped him prepare for prosthesis fitting, and would also help phantom pain.

To prevent contractures he was instructed to not lay on overly soft beds or leave the head of the bed raised, as well as not using a pillow under his thighs, back, or between his legs.

Alfred enjoyed being present for all these instructions.

Dick was shown motion exercises and stretches, as well as taught how to use his wheelchair and how to move between it and places like his bed. His wheelchair extended out long so his legs could stay resting straight.

Any movement Dick could do, he was thrilled to.

Having to do so much differently made him feel impatient but he'd get nothing out of dwelling on it. It was adapting to change, and Dick was never one to flinch at that.

\--

Dick wheeled himself out of the automatic front doors of the hospital. He wore a hoodie, hood up, and sunglasses. Only Alfred was with him, to avoid attention. It was only a matter of time before the media found out, but the later the better. Dick was long used to this kind of thing.

He was grateful there were no reporters or paparazzi to shove around him yelling questions and taking pictures as he lifted himself into a car from his chair for the first time. He knew Babs hadn't been so lucky.

As Alfred began to drive, Dick spoke up.

"Just take me back to my apartment please, Alfie."

"You must think very lowly of my intellect indeed, Master Dick," Alfred said sternly.

"No, Alfie, of course n-"

"I'll have you where I can help you if you need it, thank you very much. And Master Bruce made it very clear you were to be brought to the manor. Your old room is prepared."

Bruce hadn't said anything. Most likely it was because he knew Dick would protest. To be fair, Dick hadn't said anything about his intent to return to his apartment because he'd known everyone else would protest.

Alfred glanced into the rearview mirror.

"And I'll not have you isolating yourself in that apartment as you heal and adjust."

Despite having known his attempt would be futile, Dick felt frustration bubble up in him. He felt slightly… trapped. He didn't want to go to the manor, but what could he do about it? Wheel all the way to Blüdhaven? He still needed to learn from Babs how to drive with hand controls.

He fumed silently, closing his eyes.

"Please allow an old man to look after his boy, Master Dick."

Dick looked up, catching Alfred's eyes in the rearview mirror. His chest felt warm.

"Well," he cleared his throat, looking out the window. "When have I ever done that without protesting?"

Alfred sighed, no doubt remembering all the times he'd had to re-stitch Dick's wounds, all while Dick wouldn't stop moving or talking, animatedly.

"And I'll remind you, I'm not a complete stranger to what you are experiencing, my boy."

With a flash of guilt, Dick remembered the prosthetic hand hidden beneath Alfred's white right glove.

"...Yeah. Sorry, Alfie."

"No apology necessary my boy. Just let me care for you."

Dick sighed loudly, and smiled.

\--

At the manor, Alfred didn't have a chance to even close the door before Damian was there, racing toward Dick & skidding to a halt before him. Titus raced up beside him, nails clacking loudly on the wooden flooring. He wasted no time slobbering all over Dick's hands and face.

"Excellent! I demanded father have Pennyworth bring you here!" Damian stood tall with his fists on his hips.

He meant to look authoritative, but it was just cute.

"Oh yeah?" Dick grinned.

"Master Damian, your father already planned to," Dick could hear the amusement in Alfred's tone.

Damian ignored him, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face as he looked at Dick.

"C'mere," Dick shoved Titus' face away, using his sleeve to wipe off his own face. He motioned Damian to stand beside his wheelchair, so he wouldn't make contact with the dressings over the still-healing incisions when Dick pulled Damian's upper body to him.

Damian's arms wrapped around Dick's shoulders as he pressed their faces together, both of them smiling.

Alfred rested his hand on Dick's shoulder. Dick was hit by an aching flash of nostalgia with just the three of them here, remembering a time he'd been committed to being this boy's father for the rest of their lives.

Damian pulled away. Titus was whining slightly at being left out. Dick scratched his head.

"I'll escort you to your room, and you can get settled in."

Damian was clearly excited they'd be living together again, and Dick felt warm with affection.

Okay, maybe having to stay at the manor wouldn't be too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what u thought :) i would appreciate it. i havent posted a fic since 2014 lol
> 
> also: im disabled, but not an amputee. i got info from actual amputees for this, and i welcome more advice & criticism!
> 
> next time we get some sparring action


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